The Lady of Avalon and the Lord of Magic
by Basil Allegri
Summary: Freya awakens, after years of being magically sedated, only to be thrust into her new role as Avalon's guardian. Meanwhile, Merlin is trying to come to terms with his identity as Emrys. Merlin/Freya Will be continued after Series 5 is over.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

**A/N: I haven't read a story yet that explained Freya's role as Lady of the Lake - so I thought I'd do it.  
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><p><span>Prologue<span>

The sleeping figure, the cold walls of Camelot, and the sense of watchfulness faded. How odd – she hadn't dreamed of anything but Camelot and its warlock in years.

The scene switched to a new setting.

The dreamer felt her heart rise to her throat. _Home!_ her thoughts cried.

The small houses weren't in rows like a normal village. Instead they were scattered along the edge of the lake like rare wild flowers: built to last the storms and built to take advantage of their proximity to the water. Around the houses stood tall oaks, hiding their village from unwanted patrols, and reflecting against the water like sunlit jewels. In the distance, the ever-looming mountains reminded the people of nature's crowning glory.

Everyone was out today.

This was the warmest day they'd seen since the end of winter, and they were determined to enjoy the sun.

The vision suddenly focused, zooming in on a small figure scampering down the road, kicking up dirt with her feet.

"Mama!" the toddler was hollering. No one looked upset at the girl's outcry – after all, it was more of an excited tone than an upset one.

"Mama!" she shouted again.

A pair of shutters were flung open, belonging to the house with a flower garden in the front. The girl started at the sudden noise, but she quickly recovered and scurried over. "Mama!" she cried again. Through the pair of shutters, a woman was visible, hard at work with a lump of dough. Tonight they were going to have a rare treat: a loaf of bread.

For some reason, the dreamer watching the scene was plagued by a sudden sense of sadness and frustration. Why was that? _Oh right_, she thought angrily to herself, _because you killed that woman. You killed mother_.

"Freya!" the woman exclaimed, beaming at her daughter.

Now that she had the woman's attention, the girl clapped her hands together and bounced happily. "Mother! I saw a little butterfly person!"

_Oh, I'd forgotten about this_.

The woman froze in her kneading for a second.

"Really?" she encouraged.

"And I rescued her!" Freya exclaimed proudly, jumping so she could get a better view through the window. "She was being chased by a meany bird and I scared him away."

There was a moment of silence between them as the girl waited for a reaction. Somewhere on the lake, the fishermen were laughing – probably at Jonas, who had a tendency to fall out of his boat.

"Did butterfly girl say anything?" her mother finally asked. The expression on her face was intense, but her young daughter didn't notice.

"She said that a I was a good girl," Freya said. Then she frowned. "And something else too. But I can't remember."

The woman had stopped kneading the dough entirely. The dreamer realized that she was probably trying to decide if her daughter was telling the truth or not. After all, most kinds of fairies had left the land for good.

Then the dream faded. Nothing replaced the blackness like it usually did.

Freya breathed in and out. Something was different.

What was different?

Then she blinked, and green light poured into her light-deprived eyes.

Freya gasped and sat up violently.

She was awake.

O o O

Miles away, Camelot's court sorcerer awoke with a start.


	2. Merlin is Tired

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

**A/N: Freya might not actually come in for several chapters... though I could be wrong. Most of this is being made up as I go, aside from a few plot details. Plus, I hope they don't kill Kilgharrah off in series 5, even if it's just so my story still works with canon.  
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Chapter 1: Merlin is Tired

Merlin was frustrated.

He rolled over onto his back, unable to find any comfort in a side position. Staring at the canopy overhead, Merlin wished he could clear his mind as easily as Arthur, who had the ability to fall asleep in the middle of a battle if he wanted. (Not that it helped anyone else, as the king snored most of the time.) Releasing a shaky breath, Merlin tried to relax.

It wasn't easy.

Within the last three days alone, a wave of responsibilities had crept up on Merlin, starting with the ripples of magic that plagued his every waking moment – and even his sleeping ones. Nothing was seemingly wrong, as far as Merlin could tell. Unhelpfully, he'd been the only magic-user to notice anything different in the magical web. He supposed it had to do with his deeper connection with magic than any other sorcerer or warlock in the history of the world, but that wasn't going to help him solve the mystery. He'd already stayed up until the morning hours for three nights in a row, looking through Gaius's dusty books for an answer. So far, nothing he had read matched the situation.

Then, to top it off, the druids had suddenly started approaching him with their problems. They claimed that they had allowed him a long enough time period to adjust to his role as Arthur's adviser and court sorcerer, but now it was time for him to step up as Lord Emrys.

How was he supposed to explain to his allies that he didn't _want _to be Lord Emrys? He hadn't been raised for leading. In his eyes, he considered his position under Arthur to be the highest priority – and that was difficult enough, with all the people who still considered Arthur a fair target.

Being court sorcerer had problems of its own, minus the assassins, which Merlin wasn't even in the mood to think about. There were certain aspects of his job that were causing a strain between him and his best friend. Arthur may have accepted Merlin's magic, but that didn't mean he fully understood it.

Still feeling discouraged, and slightly lonely, Merlin drifted off into a restless slumber.

O o O

An hour later, Merlin's eyes were forced open blearily.

"_Merlin..._"

Merlin groaned. It was Kilgharrah. He wondered what the dragon was doing near Camelot.

"_Merlin..._" the voice was more insistent.

"_I heard you the first time!_" he shouted back mentally. Stupid dragon. Muttering under his breath, Merlin hoisted himself out of bed.

O o O

"All right, what do you want?" Merlin asked testily. His hair was sticking out in multiple directions and his red robe was wrapped around him haphazardly.

Kilgharrah tapped his foot on the ground. If Merlin didn't know better, he'd say that the dragon looked anxious.

"Young warlock," he began, "something is happening to Camelot's magic."

"What, you mean those ripples I keep feeling?" Merlin asked tiredly. "I know. I know. I'm working on it."

Kilgharrah brought his face level with Merlin's. "It's origin is Avalon."

Merlin tilted his head. That was more information than he'd gotten from all those books. "Really? Okay, then. As soon as I get a good night's rest," he hinted dangerously, "I'll get right on that."

Kilgharrah drew back, a question in his eyes.

"What?" Merlin asked. He looked down at himself, wondering if he'd turned blue or something.

"You mean you didn't know?" the dragon asked.

"Know what?" Merlin asked with a yawn. He was barely able to think straight, let alone try and work out Kilgharrah's riddles.

Normally the dragon would begin to snicker at this, usually to mock Merlin for his ignorance, but he did no such thing. Instead he looked puzzled.

"Your magic, young warlock, is at the center of it all," he said. "You are the cause for the imbalance."

Merlin stared.

"What?" he asked. "How does that work? I'm pretty sure I'm not in Avalon right now."

The dragon shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable.

"I was hoping that you could tell me, young warlock."

They stared at each other for a full minute.

Finally Merlin burst out laughing. The laughter was almost too hysterical to be considered entirely sane. "You have no idea what's going on then?" Merlin asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

Kilgharrah's pout said everything.

Merlin chuckled. "Fine. I'll go see what's wrong. Are you _sure_ it's my magic that's causing it?" he asked, hesitating.

Kilgharrah nodded. "I would recognize your magic anywhere, young warlock. There's no mistaking it."

Merlin frowned.

"Do you think whatever's happening is dangerous?" he asked.

"It's difficult to tell," the dragon said with a sigh. "So far, nothing has been damaged, but I believe that could change."

"Doesn't it always?" Merlin said with a sigh of his own.

"Will you try and fix this upheaval?" Kilgharrah asked.

"Yes," was all Merlin could manage.

"Soon?"

"If I can get away from court. The druids have been bothering me recently. Plus, there's a slight drought going on. Arthur has been pestering me to do something about it," Merlin said with a sigh.

"The natural forces of this world must not be tampered with," the dragon reminded firmly. "I hope you aren't considering bringing rain."

"You try telling Arthur that," Merlin snapped, "when his citizens are standing before him, begging him to help them."

"You must not upset the balance of nature," Kilgharrah said forcefully, almost in the form of an order.

Merlin's shoulders slumped and he admitted, "I wasn't going to. I've already read too many situations where sorcerers would attempt to cure a drought, only to cause a worse drought somewhere else."

Kilgharrah nodded. "You are learning, little one," he said, in a kinder tone than he had been using before.

"Not quickly enough, though," Merlin said resentfully. "The druids keep coming to me, expecting Emrys to solve their problems, when in reality, I don't even know where to start in most cases."

"And yet Emrys is who you are," the dragon said carefully, "and is who you must become, if you are to fulfill your destiny."

Merlin was silent. He didn't want to argue with Kilgharrah about destiny right then. He was too tired and too stressed.

Sensing that his young dragonlord was in a fouler mood than he was letting on, Kilgharrah said, as gently as he could, "Young warlock, I think you should get some rest. If I had known how tired you were, I would have waited until the morning."

Merlin smiled slightly. It was a rare thing for Kilgharrah to be so considerate. "May I call you tomorrow?" he asked. "I'm afraid I don't know much about Avalon, and I know that there's very little information in any of Gaius's books."

Kilgharrah tilted his head forward. "You may. Now... go sleep," he ordered lightly.

Merlin blinked wearily and nodded. He barely noticed as the dragon unfurled his wings, and with a powerful surge of muscles, rose into the air, causing a slight windstorm. His bed was waiting...


	3. The Awakening of Lady Freya

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

A/N: Nevermind the last author's note. Freya is in this chapter.

Chapter 3: The Awakening of Lady Freya

For the thousandth time, Freya placed her hand against the damp wall. The cool, wooden surface was the only evidence she had to remind her that she was definitely awake, definitely alive.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been awake. Time didn't seem to exist in the place she was in. There were no suns or stars – even the windows near the top of the domed ceiling showed no change of light. The green light filtering through was constant, never dimming or growing, no matter how much time passed. The atmosphere reminded Freya of the space under a large tree and its canopy of leaves in the summer.

"_In the autumn we fall, lazy and cold_," she sang softly. The memory of her mother singing the lullaby had popped up, unbidden. It wasn't the first time a random thought had triggered such memories – memories she thought had been lost in the chaos of her later life.

Part of her was resentful. What right did such her mind have to betray her? She hadn't thought about the happy moments of her life in years, not until Emrys... no, _Merlin_ had rescued her. It only reminded her of the happiness that had been stolen away from her.

Another part of her was relieved. At least she wouldn't be left alone to her miserable thoughts. _Alone_. She had never felt so alone. Even as a girl who was cursed to to change into a killer monster every night, she had still been around people. Now there was no one at all. No one to take her mind off the misery of the last two years... of her waking life, anyways. It was hard to tell how long she'd been asleep (or dead, she wasn't sure which).

Freya walked over to the door and stared at it. It wasn't really a door – only a carving – but she had a feeling that it would become real one day. At least, she was fairly certain.

Another memory came.

_ Camelot was in trouble. The witch was knotting the webs of magic and using it to their own ends. Freya wondered if they knew how thin she was stretching the veil between life and death when she did that. Maybe that was the point._

_ Freya knew that Emyrs... no, _Merlin_ could tell. As he dipped his hands into a stream, the current washing away the blood of Arthur, Freya connected with him. His feelings were quite clear. He was worried._

_ It was time to repay her debt._

_ Freya had been aware of the powerful sword for a while. Now she focused on the weapon. To her delight, it was perfect. Not only was it covered in Merlin's signature, it also burned with fire. A single touch would unravel the magical knots, the living dead, so intent on destroying the kingdom._

_ There was only one matter of concern left to Freya._

_ How was she going to let Merlin know that she had the solution? He possessed ungated water from her lake, the only way to communicate with him, but he wasn't using it. Frustrated, Freya was forced to watch as the situation only grew more desperate._

_ As the days went by, her anxious signals must have reached him on some level. Merlin began to focus on the precious water. He knew it was important. This was only more frustrating to Freya, for even as he clutched it, and carried it about, he had no idea how to use it._

_ Then it shattered. The glass barrier between them shattered. Freya smiled to herself, relieved. She was going to see Merlin again! And more importantly, he debt was to be repaid._

_ Merlin appeared to be panicking. He probably thought that he had just ruined his only chance of saving his home._

_ Freya held her breath as the water formed a puddle. It was just big enough to allow her to project an image of herself through the water. He could see her._

_ "Freya?" Merlin stuttered._

_ "I've missed you," she said honestly. He tried to say something, but Freya interrupted him. This had to be said. "Merlin, we don't have long."_

_ "Is it really you?" he asked, still looking dazed._

_ She nodded, loving the way his eyes focused on hers. She'd forgotten what that felt like._

_ "I swore that one day I would repay you," she reminded him firmly. "Now is the moment."_

_ "I don't understand," he told her, shaking his head. He didn't know, did he? He didn't know that she was still bound to this world by magic. But there was no time to explain._

_ "There is but one weapon that can something which is already dead," she told him. The already dead. The knots in the magic._

_ His eyes widened. He knew exactly what she was talking about. "A blade forged in the dragon's breath..." he breathed._

_ "That weapon lies on the bottom of the Lake of Avalon," she told him, adding mentally, _my lake_. "...Where you hid it." He didn't contradict her, so she guessed she'd spoken true._

_ "But Morgana's army aren't dead," he said despairingly, "they're very much alive."_

_ "Anyone who toys with the cup, pays a terrible price," Freya said. "The moment they entered their pact with Morgause they became the living dead."_

_ Merlin considered what he'd been told._

_ "You must come to the lake," Freya advised._

_ Merlin gave her a look that seemed to pierce her very soul. "And you would give me the sword?" he asked, almost as if she were the main reason he'd be going._

_ She wasn't sure if she'd be able to. But she swore that she would try._

_ "In your hands it has the power to save Albion," she declared, making sure he got it in his head to retrieve the sword whether she was the one to give it to him or not._

_ "Thank you," he said earnestly, looking ready to cry._

_ Freya smiled widely. "No," she contradicted him, "it's given me the chance to see you again." To talk to you again._

_ They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. How Freya loved Merlin. Then he turned away, and their connection broke._

_ He was coming soon!_

_ Freya spent the rest of her time trying to awaken herself. Her new being wasn't finished yet, she knew, but she only needed to be awake for a moment. _A moment!_ she pleaded to an unknown power. _Just a moment!

_ Something told her that she would be allowed. But just for a moment. Freya readied herself. She could sense the epicenter of Merlin's magic getting closer, he was riding fire itself. A dragon. The dragon that had made the sword, that was easy enough to see._

_ As Merlin dismounted onto her shores, Freya began pulling at the magic around her. Merlin was using a rowboat to reach the center of the lake, right above the spot he'd thrown the sword. The rowboat had been abandoned there by would-be fisherman, who'd decided that the lake was too creepy to stay around._

_ She almost didn't make it. Her eyes were open, but they couldn't see. There was a door in front of her, but it wasn't real. She needed to go through it! But it wasn't ready to let her out yet._

_ It wanted to keep her there. "But I'm helping Merlin!" she almost screamed at it, as though it would make a difference. A rush of magic came from the surface of the lake and rushed through the room. The door glowed slightly and cracked open. Merlin! Merlin's magic was letting her out!_

_ For a moment._

_ As sense of life rushed into her. She was alive! Not alive in the normal sense – she could feel the water flowing around her but it didn't bother her at all. Feeling more free than she had in years, Freya picked up the sword, easily breaking whatever enchantments bound it to the bottom of her lake._

_ Now to get it to the surface... almost as soon as the thought had come, her body began to lift, the sword raised above it. As her arm broke through the water she felt a profound sense of achievement. She wondered if she could go higher and talk to him... face to face._

_ That's when she felt it again – the large wave of power that had come over her when the Sidhe had opened the gateway. Her bonds began to draw her back to her resting place, the rush of magic beginning to overwhelm her. NO! She almost lost her grip on the sword. _Merlin, take it! _she pleaded._

_ The last thing she was conscious of was the brush of his fingers against hers. She wondered if that was what death felt like._

Freya blinked.

She touched the carved door. So she _had_ been outside, even if there was little of memory of what was out there. She smiled slightly, glad that she had helped Merlin, just as she promised.

Merlin had been the theme of most of her thoughts within the time she'd been awake. Not even the fond memories of her childhood compared to the memories she'd drawn up about him. His compassion, his loyalty, his clumsiness... Freya giggled out loud.

Then she sobered when she remembered the last detail: The fact that Merlin was Emrys.

At first, when the idea had presented itself to her waking self, she'd been incredulous. She didn't want her rescuer, so sad and beautiful, to be the all-powerful being of whom the druids spoke. It meant that she would have to share him, the best thing in her life, with Arthur... with everyone. But after a while, after reviewing the memories she had of him, the trials she had witnessed while she slept, she decided that if Merlin hadn't been Emrys, he wouldn't have been her Merlin. And more importantly, if Emrys hadn't been Merlin, then the world would have been doomed.

That was her opinion anyways. Perhaps she was slightly biased.

Freya reviewed this new memory. She was already aware that Merlin's magic had been the key to her revival from a near death. Now it was apparent that his magic was also what could open the door.

She stared at the fake door, willing it to open.

"Merlin," she begged aloud.


End file.
